Fire Domain
by MadreLoca
Summary: A secret assassins organization offers to get the twins out of prison. Discontinued, possibly to be re-written someday.
1. Chapter 1

**Title** – Fire Domain

**Summary** – A secret assassins organisation offers to get the twins out of prison. Their terms? The boys work for them, hunting down a DIFFERENT kind of danger. Warning – Starts out VERY dark! Will feature supernatural elements and dark creatures.

**Rating** – M for dark themes, implied non-con, violence and language (and all in the first chapter, too). You saw the movies you'll be fine.

**Comments** – I'm almost positive nothing like this has ever been posted for BDS, so bear with me.

**Disclaimer** – defiantly don't own Conner or Murphy, nor do I own the song lyrics that introduce each chapter (I only wish I could write poetry as deep as Slipknot). I do however own the organisation Fire Domain, it is actually in a novel I am working on, so HANDS OFF MY SECRET ASSASINS ORGANISATION!

_Take this away  
Take this away  
I can feel it on my mouth  
I can taste you on my fingers  
I can hear you like the Holy Ghost  
And kill you if you get too close_

_Slipknot – Left Behind_

_Was it all a dream? That man who appeared last night in my cell..................... He couldn't have been real. This is a maximum security fucking prison!_

"Conner."

Conner could faintly hear his name being called, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Earth to fucking Conner MacManus!"

Conner finally lifted his head up when he felt Murphy shake his shoulder."

"Hu? Oh, sorry Murph. Just spaced out."

Murphy rolled his eyes. "You were fine last night. What could have possibly happened between then and breakfast this morning?"

"To tell you the truth Murph, I have no fucking clue. I had this weird dream."

"Yeah, what about?"

Conner hesitated. He felt like he was going crazy. After all, it had been almost a month sence the warden separated them, making them sleep in their own cells. He was afraid they might conspire and hatch a plan to escape. So, for the past twenty eight days and counting, the brothers slept (or didn't sleep) knowing that the other was clear down the hall, not five feet away as it had always been. It had also been just yesterday that the warden had taken them out of their tv room and placed them in general population. Today was only their second day in the yard.

Conner finally began his story, "There was this...this man in my cell. He was dressed the way we were when we were 'working'. His hair was straight, black. The strangest thing about him though were his eyes. They were pitch black. The whites were still, ya know, white, but the part that's supposed to be green or blue or brown was as black as, ya know, the part that's supposed to be black. It was fucking creepy as hell."

Conner fell silent for a moment. Then in a voice that edged on fear, he said, "Conner, I've had that same fucking dream."

"We've shared dreams before. This is probably no different. It will only get worse now that we're separated."

The brothers sighed together. The two sat on the bench in silence, content with just eachothers company.

That was until a group of 15 or 20 huge ass mother fuckers came stalking towards them.

The twins just starred at the mob growing frighteningly close. Conner turned his eyes to Murphy, but did not turn his head. "Just. Stay. Cool."

"Well what the fuck do you know!" declared the man who seemed to be leading the mob. He was about 6'1, his entire body was nothing but muscle, but not bulky can't-hold-his-arms-streight muscle. He was obviously caucasian, but very tan. His shirt was unbuttoned revealing a pit bull tattoo in the center of his chest. He also had barbed wire spiraling up his arms. His pale green eyes glared at them in evil amusement. "If it isn't the mother fucking Saints."

"Los Santos," echoed a short Hispanic man with a mohawk that reminded them of Romeo's.

Romeo. If he hadn't died of his injuries from The Roman's mansion, he defiantly would have died here. He wouldn't have been able to stay calm.

"We're not saints," Conner replied calmly as the brothers stood together. "Were just killers like the rest of you, leave us alone."

Cruel chuckles spread through the gang.

The leader snatched Conner's left hand. Conner tried to pull it back, but the man had a tight grip arond his wrist. "Veritas," the man read.

Conner answered, "Truth."

"And what is it they say about truth, hm? C'mon, tell me Saint."

"The truth will set you free."

The man with the pit bull grinned. "And so it shall. However," he stepped in front of Murphy, Who's eyes widened with fear. "I'm afraid the luck o' the Irish has not been extended to your brother."

Conner was about to lunge forward, but before he could move an inch he was grabbed by fore men.

"Get him," the man motioned to Murphy. All at once, everyone in the gang who wasn't restraining Conner was jumping Murphy.

"NO!" Conner screamed at the top of his lungs and struggled as hard as he could to free himself. "NO! You fuckfaced bastards! Get the fuck off Murphy!

"Conner!" Murphy screamed, barely audible from the commotion. Every prisoner in the yard began to gather around. No way the guards were getting involved in this. This wouldn't stop until the ravenous hoard said it stopped.

The brothers screamed each others names and various profanity as the a few men who had a hold of Murphy dragged him the the wall of the yard. Two men held him against the wall by the arms while others took turns punching, jabbing, slapping and kicking him.

By the time the men holding Conner made it through the crowd to make Conner watch, Murphy was covered in blood.

"MURPHY!"

"Con-" Murphy tried to choke out his brother's name, but he was interrupted when the men holding him against the wall threw him to the ground. He hit the dusty ground face first with a grunt. One of the men who had restrained him before knelt down and straddled his lower back. The bulky, muscular man grabbed Murphy's right arm and twisted it behind his back. Murphy groaned painfully through clenched teeth. Strangely though, he did not think much of the pain. What tortured him most was that Conner was forced to watch this. He could here him screaming his name, even over the cheering and yelling of the crowd of violent felons. Or maybe he could _feel_ Conner screaming his name. He tuned out the audience and focused his mind on Conner, thanking the Lord that this was happening to him and not to his brother. But what was worse, being tortured or being forced to watch the torture?

Conner wondered the same thing as he stood still restrained by fore men. He wasn't struggling so hard now, because he knew that even if he did manage to wriggle free, he would just be jumped by twice as many men. But he didn't stop screaming. He couldn't hear anything, not even his own screams. But it was as if he could hear what Murphy felt- his pain, his desperation, his humiliation. He felt Murphy crying out to God to help him. Conner hated that he could only watch. He could not save his brother from what was happening.

Or from what he knew was coming.

Finally he did hear something. As the man on top of Murphy twisted and pulled on his arm, he suddenly jerked it upward. The pop was probably heard all the way back in Ireland. Murphy screamed long and loud.

"AAAAAAAAAH! Son of a.....GAAAAH! Fuck!"

"You heard him boys!" shouted a man in the crowd.

For the first time sense this all began Conner grew silent. His eyes widened with the deepest terror he had ever felt.

Murphy felt Conner's terror, as well as his own.

No.

Not _that_.

Anything but _that_.

The man from the crowd who had shouted stepped up just in front of Murphy. He cocked sick grin and kicked dust in Murphy's face. The man then turned to look at Conner. He just grinned and turned his eyes back to Murphy, who was choking on a mixture of dust, mud, and blood.

Conner released his rage with a scream to meat no match. "**NO! **_**NOOOO**_**!**" Conner eventually had to stop to breath. "N...Nu............."

The last thing Conner saw before he passed out was the man from the crowd dropping to his knees in front of Murphy. Blood pressure had spared Conner from watching what would happen to his brother, his only family, his teammate, his best friend, the other half of his fucking soul.

Conner would be spared.

But Murphy would not be spared.


	2. Chapter 2

_Bury all your secrets in my skin_

_Come away with innocence_

_And leave me with my sins_

_The air around me still feels like a cage_

_And love is just a camouflage_

_For what resembles rage_

_Slipknot – Snuff_

_Conner._

_Murphy._

_..................._

Murphy had spent a week in the infirmary with a concussion, several broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, not to mention a bruised soul.

The separation was the worst part. For both brothers, it was one week of being all alone in the world. One week of not knowing anything. One week of unimaginable agony.

....................

He tried his best to tread softly as he walked down the hall. He wished he had his mothers eyes, you now, the ones on the back of her head, so that he would not have to keep looking over his shoulder. The only other people around were the guards. They kept looking at him and making him feel uneasy.

They _knew_. They all knew. Some looked at him with sympathy, others with pity (the look he hated most.) Still others looked at him as if to say, "That's what you get."

"MacManus," he heard someone behind him call. Murphy froze for a second and then continued walking at a quicker pace. Whoever it was who had called his name followed him, and he started walking even fasted.

"Hay, MacManus, wait up." Murphy stopped again, this time he slowly turned around. Standing about ten feet away was another inmate, a baby-faced strawberry blond. He had a tattoo of a Celtic knot around his neck. Murphy wouldn't have turned around, though, had it not been for the man's accent. It wasn't quite as thick as his and Conner's, but it was defiantly Irish.

"Who are you?" Murphy inquired suspiciously.

"Name's Patrick MacConnolly. IRA involvement," Patrick pointed his index finger at Murphy. "No details." It was pretty typical at Hoag to include what you were in for in your greeting and introduction.

Murphy asked dryly, "What do you want?"

Patrick chuckled playfully. "An ally. We Irishmen gotta' stick together."

Murphy bit his lip and nodded. "S'pose so. I'll buy it if you tell me where I can find Conner."

Patrick smiled, relieving the fact that one of his bottom front teeth was missing. "Chapel. Follow me."

Murphy followed Patrick. "Wait," Murphy said as they passed his cell. He stepped in quickly and retrieved hes rosary from the bedside table and put it around his neck.

The two did not speak on their was to the chapel, other than to get a guard to escort them.. When they arrived, Patrick opened the door for Murphy. "I'll stand back."

Murphy stepped inside the Chapel. There he saw Conner kneeling in front of the alter. The trembling of his body told Murphy that his brother was crying. He listened carefully and could hear the sobbing. Pain crossed Murphy's face. He couldn't even breath, let alone take a step forward. He managed to force himself to walk.

The carpet absorbed the sound of his footsteps. Murphy was right behind Conner before he realized anyone was there. Murphy knelt down beside his weeping brother. They did not look at each other at first, and Murphy bowed his head to pray.

When Murphy raised his head, Conner was looking at him like he was a ghost. Murphy's body began to tremble. He had his brother back, but he still felt so far away from him. He bit his lip to hold back the tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

Slowly, Conner lifted his hand to gently stroke his brothers face. "Murphy," he said in pain. Pain for what he had seen happen to Murphy. Pain for the separation that had felt like an eternity. Pain of knowing that his brother was broken, and thus he was broken as well.

There was no restraining the tear that rolled down Murphy's cheek onto Conner's hand. Murphy could not speak, for he knew that if he did tears would be unstoppable and sobs would be uncontrollable. But he knew Conner needed to hear his voice. He released the grip his teeth had on his bottom lip. He thought his brother's name would flow easily from his lips, but he had to force it. "C...Conner."

He knew it. As soon as he spoke he lost all control. He fell into his brother's arms and wept freely.

Conner cried with him, holding Murphy's head tightly against his chest. He felt the tears soaking through his shirt onto his chest, and his own fell into his brother's hair.

After a good ten minutes, it was Murphy who quieted first. He held Conner's face in both hands and forced a week smile.

"Christ, Murphy, your eye!" It was only then Conner saw that the white of Murphy's right eye was blood red.

Murphy starred at the ground and nodded. "Busted blood vessel. The doc says its permanent."

"Jesus, Murph."

Murphy let his arms drop. His eye wouldn't be all that would be permanent. His heart was scarred. "You'll never be able to look at me without thinking about it. Hell, you'll never be able to look at me."

Conner tilted Murphy's chin up and met his eyes. His chest tightened and he couldn't help but focus, if only for a moment, on his right eye that would forever be red. "You're my brother. I'll never look at you any different than I have for the past twenty seven years. You're half my fucking soul. Dammit, I love you!" Conner put his hand behind Murphy's head and kissed his forehead. Leaving his lips there, he told his twin, "I fucking love you!"

"I fucking love you!" Murphy returned.

They were leaning in for one more embrace when they were interrupted by the guard who had escorted Conner. He strutted over and towered above them. "Jesus hears ya, now get your asses up! Time for lunch."

"Will you just let us finish fucking praying?" Murphy protested.

"You got one more minute."

The guard stepped back about five feet but did not leave.

Conner and Murphy turned to face the alter. They bowed their heads and, in unison, the recited their prayer.

"And shepherds we shall be,

For Thee, my Lord, for Thee.

Power hath descended from thy hand,

That our feet may swiftly carry out thy command,

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee.

And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

In nomine Patris,

et Filii,

et Spiritus Sancti."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, I think it's time we finally get some humor going, ya know, just to make the story well rounded. I love writing Patrick already. He sais the weirdest shit. I know I posted a lot at once, so please read patiently and review! Seriously, my other fics get like NO reviews!**

_Cycle of life and death supposedly  
goes 'round and 'round _

_yet it stops with me  
Glorious hunter of my faith I have sinned  
Killers are quiet _

_like the the breath of the wind_

_Slipknot – Killers are Quiet_

The three Irishmen sat together as far away from everyone as possible.

"Do you know what they call me? Camel."

Conner looked at Patrick confused. "Why?"

"That's my brand."

"Of?"

A glorious sight appeared before them, for from his pocket, Patrick produced an unopened pack of Camel brand cigarets.

Murphy put his hand palm up on the table. No expression crossed his face. "Hand'em over or your fucking dead."

Patrick and Conner laughed. Patrick gladly handed over the cigarets, plus a cheep plastic lighter. "Just this once, the smokes are on the house, but I want that lighter back."

Murphy quickly glanced around. "You don't mean I can smoke in here, do you?"

"Why the fuck not?" Patrick asked. "Think the guards fucking give a flying rat shit about some piddly ass contraband like smokes?"

Murphy shrugged and pealed away the plastic. He gave a cigaret to Conner before taking one for himself.

The first drag they took together was like heaven.

"Oh, Fuck, yes! Absolute bliss," Conner celebrated.

Murphy suppressed laughter. "Do you want Patrick and I to leave you two alone for a while," he teased.

Conner was to busy enjoying his nicotine fix to give more of a reply than flipping Murphy off.

Murphy rolled his eyes and took another long drag. "So childish."

"Well," Patrick rejoined the conversation, "Now that I've made you two happy, let's get down to business."

Both brothers looked confused. "Business?" they asked in unison.

"My secret agenda for befriending you. Not that I wouldn't have anyway, like I said, we Irishmen gotta stick together." Patrick lowered the tone of his voice. "The IRA isn't the only organization I belong to. My other area of involvement is something that few people even know exist. We're called Fire Domain."

"What's the objective of this organization?" Conner asked, flicking his cigaret ashes onto the half empty plate of whatever-it-was.

"Same thing you boys do. Only we're slightly different. Our targets are...how should I put this...unique? Different? Well, at any rate-"

"Different how?" Murphy interrupted.

Patrick shook his finger. "Knew you would ask that. Let's just simply say that our targets are among those that most sane people don't even believe in."

Conner scoffed. "What do you hunt monsters or something?"

"No, just the types of creatures that, say, have been popping up in your 'dreams.'"

The twins froze.

"He's not a dream," Patrick resumed. "His name is Aaron. He works for Fire Domain."

"Alright, hold the fuck up!" Murphy crushed out his cigaret. "What the fuck does this have to do with us?"

"Okay. I see you like frankness. I'm a recruiter for Fire Domain. That's the only reason I'm still in this joint. They could have busted me out ages ago, but I've got a mission. They were a few days away from getting me out when they heard you two were moving in. Aaron's exact words to me were, 'Patrick, boss says to recruit the Saints.' So there it is, lads. I'm recruiting you."

The brothers were silent for a moment before Conner finally spoke. "What the fuck does your boss want us to do locked up in this fuckhole, exactly?"

"Again, knew you would ask. If they could bust me out, what makes you think they can't do the same for you?"

"So let me get this straight," Murphy tried to reason, "Fire Domain breaks us out of prison in exchange for us working for them?"

"Killing for them, yes. But you don't just work for Fire Domain. You dedicate you life to vanquishing evil. You lads have obviously already done that, so I fail to see a downside for you."

Murphy and Conner looked at each other for about ten seconds. They then turned back to Patrick and again spoke in unison. "No."

Patrick shrugged. "Okay. But when you've had your fill of this 'fuckhole' as Conner so nicely put it, you'll change your mind."

"Just out of curiosity," Conner mused, "What types of creatures that most sane people don't believe exist does you boss want us to kill?"

Straight-faced, Patrick looked Conner in the eyes and answered, "Vampires."


	4. Chapter 4

**OK, so I know we have been on a ridiculously long hiatus here, but I couldn't get this chapter to work the way I wanted it to. I still thought you all deserved something, though, so I just found a good breaking point in the chapter and split it up. I promised MadEve some revenge for Murphy in this chapter, and I had originally planned on it, but it looks like that is going to have to wait until chapter five that was originally supposed to be the second half of chapter four. **

_Follow me  
I've seen so much, I'm blind again  
Follow me  
I feel so bad, I'm alive again  
Follow me_

_Slipknot-Circle_

The three Irishmen sat in a triangle on the floor of Patrick's open cell. Conner and Murphy would, of cores, still be friends with Patrick even if they would not join Fire Domain, or if they thought Patrick's elevator might not have gone all the way to the top.

"Do you know what make us Irishmen?" Patrick asked to whichever brother would respond first.

"'Cause we're from Ireland?" Murphy sarcastically stated the obvious.

Patrick corrected and and clapped Murphy on the shoulder (luckily the left shoulder), "No, no, well, yes, but it's our pride! If an Irishman doesn't have pride at least twice as big as his dick, they don't let him be an Irishman!"

Conner laughed. "That's when they call them Englishmen, aye?"

This rendered wholehearted laughs from Patrick and Murphy both.

Over the sound of their own laughter, they heard someone in the hall walking and singing.

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts diddly, diddly , there they are, standing in a row..."

Patrick answered Conner and Murphy's curious looks by explaining, "That's just Dante. Oh, shit, I owe him cigarets!"

The singing continued and sounded like it was right outside the cell, "Big ones, small ones, some as big as my dick...hay, what's up, Camel? Got those smokes you owe me?" A large black man stopped in the doorway. He had a clean-shaven head and a face covered with scars. He looked like he may have at one point been quite good looking had he not apparently stuck his face in a lawnmower. He had tattoos across his knuckles, "hate" on the left hand and "love" on the right.

"I won't have them 'till tomorrow," Patrick answered.

Dante shook his head. "What the fuck am I going to do with you, Camel?" Dante's straight face told them all that he wasn't joking.

Patrick kept his cool and chuckled. "You're going to get the fuck off my property, you big black bastard."

Dante rolled his eyes. "You better fucking have them tomorrow," he warned and began to walk away. He stopped and turned around slowly.

Conner's eyes glued onto Murphy. He couldn't help thinking Dante would say something to them. Whatever happened, he was determined to protect Murphy this time.

Murphy couldn't help but hold his breath. He felt the lighthearted evening begin to fall apart. Was this going to be a repeat of the yard incident a week ago? He felt sick.

"One more thing, Patrick. Should I start calling you _Saint_ Patrick? I can't help but notice the new company you keep. Let me ask you something, what are you doing wasting your time with these fuckfaces?" Dante then looked straight at Murphy. "Hay, I remember you. Pit Bull sicked the whole fucking yard on your ass!"

Without missing a beat, Conner stood and launched himself at Dante, followed closely by Patrick.

"Conner, no!" Murphy protested. "Fuck my life," he muttered and got up and joined the fight. What else was he supposed to do, anyway?

There were fore guards there to break up the fight before any good hits were landed. Patrick and Murphy weren't hard to restrain, it was Conner and Dante that had to be ripped apart.

"Don't fight the guard, Conner!" Murphy shouted.

Conner pushed Dante away without the guard having to touch him. Dante willingly backed off from the guards and the fight. As he backed away, he cursed a warning to Conner. "I'll fuck you up, Saint! I'll fuck you up!"

The guards holding the brothers and Patrick let go when they saw that Dante was leaving. "You micks just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" One guard commented, shaking his head.

"Well that was fun!" Patrick exclaimed when the guards had returned to their posts.

Murphy pushed Patrick's shoulder, not so hard that it was violent, but hard enough that it was obvious he wasn't joking. "Just what fucking part of that was fun?"

"The part where Dante ran off like a little fucking pussy!" Conner cut in.

"You," Murphy pointed at Conner, "Don't you think we get in enough trouble without you starting fights?"

"What the fuck was I supposed to do, just let him taunt and mock you like that? They fuck with you, they fuck with me. That's never gonna' change no matter where we are, go it?"

"They fuck with either of you, they fuck with me and trust me," Patrick assured, "They don't want to fuck with me unless they're brain damaged. And speaking of brain damage, I got someone I want you bros to meet."

Conner and Murphy gave each other confused looks, but, accepting that the subject had officially been changed at random and the conversation was over as quickly as it had started, they went along with Patrick and followed him to the cell block down stairs. If they were going to stay with Patrick, they would have to learn to get used to this.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry, this isn't a real chapter, it's just to let you know that the reason or this story being on a ridiculously long hiatus is the fact that my flash drive with the next few chapters on it has apparently been stolen; they have been in the works for some tine now, I just had a lot of bugs to work out of the long-promised Murphy's revenge scene in Chapter five. I want you all to know that despite the nasty little review I received that I will NOT remove, btw, I am planning on finishing this story, as well as the other two chapter fics I have started on this site (for different fandoms, though) Chapter's five and six were completed on the stolen flashdrive, but I had way to many bugs to work out of chapter five to post it. It might be for the best that I just completely re-write the fucker. I'm heartbroken about chapter six that was flawless in my opinion, and that never happens.

I may also use this oportunity to start working on yet another chapter fic. The description for a WOP called In This Bright Darkness is on my profile and in the next few weeks you might see that pop up on the site (only problem is that all my research and notes are...guess where...) As for FD, it's gonna be a while still. When I get a new chapter up and running, I will replace this little rant with a real chapter.

I apologize for anyone who has this story on their alerts and may have been waiting for an update.


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